Chapter Eighteen

“My fellow Americans, we are and always will be a nation of immigrants. We were strangers once, too.” Barack Obama

Gideon watched through the binoculars as Kate got shakily to her feet.

She’d seemed okay when she’d arrived. He’d followed her from her office—he’d gone there to invite her for lunch—to see if he could work out what made her tick. What interest she had in drugging a Secret Service agent. He’d called as he got close and had been told that she’d already left for lunch. He’d arrived at her building as she was exiting. He’d followed her, seen her meet with her sister. The two were clearly close.

He was too far away to hear their conversation, but it had seemed intense. Was Kate telling her sister about him? That she’d tried to sleep with Stella’s ex-fiancée?

Stella was not likely to be bothered. Theirs had never been a passionate relationship, more one formed on mutual respect and expediency. And thinking back, she’d never seemed interested in the physical side of things.

Whatever the sisters had talked about, they’d parted as friends if the hug was anything to go by.

When Kate left the park, he followed long enough to make sure she was heading back to work, then he got a cab back to his own office.

Time to find out everything he could about Kate Buchanan.

Gideon was back outside her office at five-thirty. He was no further ahead with determining what made Kate Buchanan tick. Why would she risk what she must know was her life by drugging a Secret Service agent?

From the reports, he knew that she had a reputation for working late. He wasn’t very good at waiting, so he entered the building and asked security to let her know he was here. A quick wave of his Secret Service ID and they were more than happy to comply. Although maybe happy wasn’t the right word.

He took a seat where he could see when she emerged from either the elevator or the stairwell, positioning himself so he would get a good look at her expression when she caught sight of him. He’d told the security guy to just tell her someone was waiting to see her. He’d spent the afternoon digging deeper into Kate’s files. Reading her school reports. She’d been brilliant. Too brilliant, really. Anything outside the norm these days was looked upon with suspicion. Although, strangely, she’d dumbed down a little in college. Maybe she was bright enough to realize the dangers of being too bright. She’d done well enough to get the job of her choice afterward, but not so well as to raise any alarms.

Her old college professor, Oliver Massey, now at Homeland Security, had sponsored her for the job. Despite his position, the man had an amber flag against his name and was not a Party member. As far as Gideon could tell, however, there was no personal relationship between him and Kate. Hardly even a professional one. She had a reputation as a loner, and, until she’d received the black mark from the new Political Officer, had had an exemplary record.

No relationships on file.

Maybe she was telling the truth that she really didn’t want a relationship. Which meant that she probably wouldn’t be pleased to see him, even without the whole drugging thing hanging over them.

He’d also had a very fruitless meeting with his boss. He’d gone to see him to ask the very relevant question of what the hell he was supposed to be doing for his salary. He was quite aware that Boyd Winters didn’t like him, and he knew exactly why. It wasn’t guilt—he was sure that wasn’t an emotion Boyd wasted time on—but Boyd had to be wondering whether Gideon harbored thoughts of revenge.

“Just relax, get the feel of the place,” he’d told him. “You’ll be busy soon enough.”

He wanted to be busy now. He got into trouble when he wasn’t busy. He had a low boredom threshold, and sitting at a desk all day, twiddling his thumbs, was making him twitchy.

He’d pushed it, and Boyd had lost his temper.

“You’re fucking here because you’re a pretty-boy hero and everybody loves you.” Everybody except Boyd, clearly. “But right now we have a lot going on.” What? He’d wanted to ask, but Boyd hadn’t given him the chance. “So just look pretty, say yes whenever the president asks you anything, and maybe, given time, you might earn some trust.”

The implication was Don’t hold your breath.

Why the hell had he been brought back here? He hadn’t meant to return. Hell, he’d had no clue what he was going to do. He’d had money and he’d planned to take his time. As a veteran, he could choose where he lived, and he’d almost decided on somewhere very far from D.C. and the memories. A new start.

Then he’d received the job offer, though “offer” was hardly the right word. You didn’t turn down the president of the United States. However much you might want to.

So here he was. Titular second-in-command of the infamous Secret Service. And, so far, he’d done absolutely nothing in return for his impressive salary.

Now he was chasing some crazy idea when he should just have reported Kate and maybe gained a little of that trust.

Not going to happen.

Not yet, anyway, until he learned just what sort of a threat she was.

The door to the stairwell opened and she appeared.

She spotted him straight away, her pale eyes widening as she stared across the space between them. Then her gaze darted from him to search the area.

Did she think he was here to arrest her? She came to a halt in front of him. “What are you doing here?”

It was clear to see why she hadn’t gone into politics like her sister. Diplomacy evidently wasn’t a strong point. “Maybe I’m here in an official capacity to find out why you haven’t been attending morning prayer meetings.”

Something flashed in her eyes. Anger, perhaps. Her gaze flicked away from him to across the room, where a Hispanic woman was watching the two of them. “Maybe you’d better go talk to Teresa then.”

“Teresa?”

“Our Political Officer.”

Ah, the woman who’d reported her. No love lost there. “Actually, I was just passing by—”

“Of course you were.” Her expression clearly said she didn’t believe him.

He ignored the look and continued, “And decided I’d drop in. I missed lunch and thought we might get an early dinner.” She remained silent. “Not pleased to see me?”

She shook herself. “Just surprised. My research led me to believe you were a one-night stand sort of guy, so I wasn’t expecting to see you again.”

“We hardly had a one-night stand. There were important elements missing. And let’s just say that certain aspects of our evening intrigued me enough to want to see you again. So—dinner?”

She pursed her lips. “As it happens, I missed lunch as well.”

Now that was interesting. Why had she lied about meeting Stella? Although she had thrown most of her lunch up. “Good. You know somewhere close?”

“There’s a steak house just down the way. We can go there. You’re not a vegetarian, are you?”

“No. Sounds good. Let’s go.”

As they exited the building, he rested a hand on the small of her back, and she shot into overdrive. He made her nervous. Part of him liked that. She was clearly aware of him. Part of him wanted her to relax so he could find out about the real Kate Buchanan.

They didn’t talk on the walk to the restaurant. She had long legs—and was wearing flat shoes today—and she kept pace with him easily. They didn’t hit any checkpoints, but then it was only a five-minute walk. Recently, you couldn’t go much farther than that without hitting one. It was worse than when he’d left ten years ago, which was strange. He’d asked some of the guys at the office about it. They’d told him that the order had come down from the president, though no one really knew why. The general consensus was that Harry wanted to look like he was doing something proactive to protect the people. But from what?

There had been so little violence over the last few years that he figured the people just thought of it as a pain in the ass.

The restaurant was typically all-American. Steak-and-apple-pie sort of food. Not his favorite, but most of the eateries in the city were “American” these days. Indian and Chinese, at least by those names, had vanished as though it was unpatriotic to eat in such places. Next they’d be banning pizza. The people needed to remember where they had come from. While they might be American now, the vast majority could not go back many generations before they came from somewhere else.

Some Americans were more American than others, he guessed.

He’d better keep that sort of thought to himself.

The place was nice, with red and white checked tablecloths and wooden beams. The hostess led them to a table by the window. It was early and there were only a couple of other diners across the restaurant from them. He didn’t recognize them. They both ordered beers and steaks and he sat back and looked at her. “So,” he said. “You researched me?”

She took a sip of beer and picked up a breadstick, nibbling it. “Of course. I’m not an idiot. I don’t take total strangers into my home.”

“I was never a total stranger.”

“No, but you’re also not the same man we knew all those years ago.”

“I’m not?”

As she studied him, her eyes narrowed. “No. Back then you were sort of…perfect. Like the golden prince. You never did anything wrong and you made it look easy.”

Was that how people had seen him? Perfect? That hadn’t been how he was at all. “I was never perfect.”

“Ha.” She crunched on her breadstick. Clearly, she didn’t believe him.

“I think it was because I…believed. Believed in the Party, in the long-term aims. It made it easy to be good.”

Her brows drew together. “You sound as though you don’t believe anymore.”

“I wouldn’t say that because it would be bordering on treason. I’m just not quite so…idealistic now.” Maybe if he hinted at his own doubts, she would open up a little about hers. If she had them. Something occurred to him. Maybe she was some sort of setup, trying to get close to trip him up. If so, he could be walking straight into trouble.

But he didn’t think so.

“Unlike yourself,” he said. “If I recall rightly, you were always in trouble growing up.”

Her eyes narrowed on him. “I thought you didn’t remember me at all?”

He grinned. “A few things came back to me when I saw that hair.” He waved a hand toward her ponytail, looped over one shoulder. “That’s hard to miss.”

She sniffed. “I was a good girl.”

“If I remember, you were always skipping school. Stella used to worry about you.”

“I had this dream about building a spaceship and heading off to the moon and beyond. Stella felt it her job to keep my feet firmly on the ground.”

He laughed. “It’s strange, but if I would have put money on anyone running off to join the rebels, it would have been you.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Of course I would never have joined the rebels. I love my country.”

“So do the rebels. Just not the way it is now.”

“You sound sympathetic.”

They were getting onto dangerous ground here. “Not sympathetic. Let’s just say that my time away made me see things from a few different points of view. Not that I agree with them. The country has never been so safe, so prosperous. Everyone gets a decent education and good medical service. The waiting list for transplants is the lowest it’s ever been.”

Something flashed in her eyes, and she swallowed.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Nothing.” She put her glass down as if to give herself time to think. “I heard this rumor… I’m sure it’s not true.”

“What rumor?”

“That the administration isn’t deporting all aliens. They’re using some of them as organ donors.” She shrugged. “I’m sure it’s just a hoax. We wouldn’t do that.”

He wished he was as sure. He’d heard something similar and discounted it because he didn’t want to believe something so horrendous. Now, here was a second source. Just the idea made him feel sick to his stomach. He would look into the matter. “I’m sure it is.”

Their food arrived at that moment, and for a few minutes they were silent. She was hungry, eating fast. Finally, she slowed and put her knife and fork down. “That was good. I needed it.”

“Why did you miss lunch?”

She glanced away for a moment, then looked back, her eyes shadowed. “Just catching up on work.”

“Have you seen your sister recently?”

“No.” She cast him a quick glance, then picked up her fork and popped a green bean into her mouth, chewed. “Were you in love with her? Back then, I mean.”

The question surprised him. He’d thought she was ignoring the whole engaged-to-her-sister thing, but she clearly believed in facing things head on.

“No. I was maybe in love with the idea of being in love. A natural progression. You could say it was a match made in heaven.”

“Then everything went to hell.”

“Yes.” He had a flashback to that room where they’d “questioned” him. He hadn’t longed for Stella as he was sure he would have had their feelings been anything more than perfunctory. “If we’d had real feelings for each other, we would have survived what happened. As it was, it was easy to let go.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. If your sister had really loved me, what happened ten years ago would have ruined her life. As it was, she was able to put it behind her.”

“As were you.”

“As was I.”

“And you joined the army, became a hero, and now you’ve returned triumphant.”

“I’m not sure triumphant is the right word.”

She shrugged. “Walking into the second-in-command of the Secret Service is pretty impressive.”

“Yeah. I’m a real catch for the Service.”

A frown tugged at her brows. “You sound bitter.”

He hadn’t realized how deep that bitterness went. He pushed it down. He was supposed to be finding out about her, not baring his soul. “Not bitter. I guess I’ve gotten used to a more active life. Sitting at a desk shuffling papers is driving me crazy.” He shoved his plate away. “You want anything else?”

“No. I’m full.”

“Hmm, so what shall we do next?”

“Go home?”

“Together?”

Shock flared in her eyes.

“I can’t believe you haven’t thought about it,” he said.

Her skin flushed, then went pale, making the freckles stand out. She traced a pattern on the tablecloth with her fingertip, then glanced up to catch his gaze.

He’d thought he was just checking up on her. Trying to discover why she had drugged him, what she was up to.

Now he admitted to himself that, beneath that, he wanted her. Maybe it was all mixed in with the danger and the secrets.

“I promise I won’t fall asleep on you again,” he murmured.

Was that guilt flickering in her pale eyes?

He reached across and picked up her hand where it lay on the table. He brought it to his mouth and kissed her palm, then bit down on the flesh at the base of her thumb. Desire flared in her face, her lips parting slightly. He let go of her hand and it curled into a fist on the table between them.

He could question her some more in the morning. They hadn’t covered half of what he’d wanted to ask, but right now, all those questions didn’t seem important.

Just don’t drink or eat anything she offers. His lips twitched at the thought.

Maybe that was part of the attraction.

He didn’t trust her.

It gave their coming together an edge.

At the same time, he sensed an innate goodness to her. Not that goodness got you very far these days. And those were the sort of thoughts he needed to banish from his head if he wanted to find any peace in this life.

Then it occurred to him. Was that what he really wanted? Peace? He was only thirty-four, even if he did feel a hell of a lot older. Was he ready to just accept the way things were?

Sometimes, he longed for the boy he’d been before his life fell apart, the boy who believed in the ideals on which he’d been brought up. He wasn’t sure what had changed him. Was it the interrogation? He remembered thinking This is unfair. I’ve done nothing wrong.

Christ. Looking back, he couldn’t believe he’d ever considered life fair. His brother had betrayed the family, his father had killed himself rather than stay and try and pull them back from the brink. His mother…She’d been questioned as well, and he couldn’t even bear to think about that. If he did, a black rage built up inside him. If he ever allowed it control, he wasn’t sure what would happen. It had left her a broken woman.

Strangely, his ten years in the army had actually restored a measure of his faith in humanity. While there were still plenty of dickheads in the military, combat had a way of distilling a man, or woman, down to the basics. Letting you see what they were made of. Who you could trust. Who would die beside you and who would stab you in the back without a second thought. He’d come to be a good judge of character.

Which was maybe why he was finding the transition to this new life so hard. Everything about President Harry Coffell screamed run. And his close confidantes were the same. There was something slightly…off about them all. None of the old people remained. The new ones were creeping sycophants at best. He didn’t want to think about the worst.

“Are you okay?” Kate’s question pulled him out of his contemplation. “You looked a little…weird.”

“I was thinking about Harry.”

“Yeah, that would do it.”

He raised an eyebrow, and her eyes widened as though she’d realized she’d just said something disrespectful about the president in the presence of the Secret Service. Maybe she was a rebel after all.

No. She didn’t have the ability for violence within her. That was something else he’d picked up in the army.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. He wanted her at ease with him. “I think we all feel that way now and then. No one’s perfect.”

He kept his gaze on her as he waved over the hostess for the check. They didn’t speak again while they were waiting, but their gazes stayed fixed on each other.

Finally, they were ready to go. He pushed himself to his feet and held out his hand. She slid hers into his. It felt right.

“Shall we walk?” he asked.

She nodded.

It was a beautiful evening, the sky clear. Other people strolled home from work. The streets were clean and wide, the buildings all well maintained. They took a shortcut through the park, and it occurred to him that, twenty years ago, they might not have done this and felt safe. There were a lot of good things that had come from the Party.

Maybe he should focus on those.